


Cuffed

by Hopetohell



Category: Night Hunter (2018)
Genre: Handcuffs, Light Angst, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26689687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopetohell/pseuds/Hopetohell
Summary: It’s not about being hurt, it’s about ceding control.
Relationships: Walter Marshall (Night Hunter)/You
Kudos: 8





	Cuffed

He’s dubious at first, hurt that you’d think this about him, despite how hard he’s tried, how much of himself he’s torn away trying to find the good man underneath. So you sit him down and explain that it’s not about being hurt, or degraded, it’s about 

“ceding control. Getting a chance to let go and just _experience_ something.” And he knows about tying you down; you’ve played like that before, his hands sure and skilled with the knots. It’s just a reframing, a little added danger, nothing that’ll hurt. Not unless you both want it. 

And yeah, you’d really like to play in the interrogation rooms down at the station, feel that filthy cold linoleum under your knees, the thrill of knowing that there could be anyone watching on the other side of the glass. But it’s too risky, someone is always burning the midnight oil there. Usually it’s Walter, but still. So instead he stalks you through the house, boots heavy on the wood floor. He catches you at the end of the hallway, cages you against the wall with his body. He’s warm, so warm, and his breath is hot over the shell of your ear when he hisses, “don’t. Move.”

And then, _fuck,_ yes, he’s closing the cuffs around your wrists, cold and biting. He huffs a little, then, when you can’t help the moan that spills out. And yeah, maybe you’re a little more vocal than usual, but he needs it. Needs to know it’s good. So you moan, and when he spins you around and guides you to your knees, you whimper. 

He just looks so _big_ from down here. He looms, arms crossed, looking for all the world like he’s about to rip your head off. But the tightness in his jaw isn’t all intimidation, so you lean forward and nose at his cock through his jeans until you glance up and see that look, that fiery half-lidded gaze that says _more. Now._

It’s harder than you thought, getting his zip down with your teeth, and he has to help you with the button, but when he’s free, flushed and leaking in the open air, you can’t help the strangled little _guh_ that slips out. Can’t help the way your mouth opens in anticipation even before he takes himself in hand, sliding his cock across your cheek before slipping it into your mouth, petting your hair as he makes just the tiniest thrust forward. 

And you nearly lose balance but his hands are there, steady on your shoulders. And as you swallow him down he speaks his litany of _yes, that’s it, take it. Fuck. That’s it, that’s exactly it._ Your hips make little motions of their own but this isn’t about that. It’s about getting him to take whatever he wants. And what he wants is to spill hot and bitter down your throat, to crash to his knees and draw you into him. And this is good, too, isn’t it?


End file.
